


70 Y

by Onediewreckshun



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Emotion Play, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Near Death Experiences
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-17
Updated: 2014-04-26
Packaged: 2018-01-19 18:49:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1480222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onediewreckshun/pseuds/Onediewreckshun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clocks only count downwards, and they count down to the second of your death. Louis was determined to make Harry his, but he was running out of time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

What was time, exactly? A figment of organization in which only exists in imagination; a cruel way of acknowledging, lengthening, timing our movements and actions. Time limits freedom and will, painfully restricting basic human rights. It evaporates the idea of living, of enjoying life. That is why the world left time behind, and created a new system in which people can only count down to how long they will live and when they will die. Louis quite often thought about how it would be to live with an element of time, of limited offers and no free shipping. The scrutiny you'd be under, the pressure you would feel and the stress that would overwhelm you if you were to arrive at an unintentional time. It all felt surreal to Louis, how humans used to only count by numbers used up in the time of a day. Maybe it was an act of needing ordeal fashions, of organization, of structure. The only stable amount of structure that there ever was.

Louis shifted his gaze to the digital clock on top of his dresser at the corner of the room, just to check.

 

_70 Y_

Louis knew seventy years would be quite a long journey from his already twenty one years of life, and he didn't know whether that was a good or bad thing.

* * *

"Zayn, what the fuck is this?" Louis' voice trembled with partial anger, partial horror. 

"What the fuck did you do? Why are the numbers counting down so rapidly, oh Zayn–" Zayn interrupted Louis' grieving by slapping him hard behind the head.

"Snap out of it Lou. What are you on about now?"

"This," Louis' sorrow instantaneously turned into fury and he shoved a finger at the screen of Zayn's phone. "Is what I'm on about, Zayn. Is there a reason why I shouldn't get a bit freaked out about your death that should occur in," Louis glanced back at the phone screen, "Eleven minutes?" Zayn's head rolled backwards, chocking noises escaping his mouth and shoulders trembling furiously. His face turned a bright color, and Louis almost fainted at the sight. Zayn wasn't about to die then and there, not right now and not later. Louis grabbed his phone from his pocket and dialed the emergencies before hearing a familiar sound. Zayn's head had lifted and his face was in his hands, Louis swore he heard panting as well.

Zayn was laughing.

"What–" Louis started, shaky fingers ending the call, mind swirling with confusion.

"What?"

Zayn let out a bark of laughter again, almost heading into another fit before saying,"That's not _my_ clock, twat. That's the timer I set for the nice smelling macaroni I've put in the oven. You're such an idiot." Zayn was off again, gasping with weird noises that shouldn't even be classified as laughter but somehow just fit into the category.

"Shit, Zayn. How did you even get the timer app? Wasn't it deleted, hell, centuries ago? That's illegal."

"I know people. They know things. It's simple, really." Louis gave Zayn an amused look.

"Don't come crying to me when the authorities come to arrest you. They find out things, Z. They find people." Louis' eyes got more serious as he turned towards Zayn.

"Be careful, really. I'd probably like, die, if you got thrown in jail. Or something." Zayn smirked, a playful glint smeared across his eyes. "Nah, looks to me you've got about 70 years. Nothing to stress over, babe." Zayn smiled, but the usual crinkles by his eyes never appeared.

"Hey um, Zayn?"

Zayn hummed in question.

"How much time do you have left?"

Zayn was silent, and a clenching feeling arose in the pit of Louis' stomach.

"Zayn?"

Zayn shoved his phone into his pocket. "Look Lou, I've got to head out. Call you later, yeah?" Zayn ruffled Louis' fringe and walked out of Louis' flat without a second glance.

* * *

It was Midday, so Louis figured he should head to work, but decided to stop for a quick meal at the bakery. He made short, fast strides as he paced through the cluster of bodies and figures, trying to fathom exactly why Zayn hadn't told Louis how much time he had left.

Zayn was healthy, though. He ate salads and took late night walks with Louis to the pub when Louis' shift was over, and they danced and grinded and was that not exercise? Surely Zayn was fit, strong, and healthy. Louis shouldn't even worry about how long he has. He almost laughed at how worried he'd been.

He stepped into the bakery and let his limbs loosen as he sniffed in the delightful aroma of fresh dough and baked bread. The smell led him to the front counter, where a quite freakishly tall, thin boy stood patiently. The mops of curls on top of his head bounced as he glanced down at Louis with emerald eyes.

"Yeah. The smell actually gets old when you're stuck in here from Dawn until Evening, can you believe it?"

Louis' eyes widened once he realized what the charming lad had meant, and he wondered if he had always been that obvious. The boy offered a crooked grin in Louis' direction when Louis took a deep breath, a sensation of hunger suddenly overwhelming him.

"I'll have four buttered scones, please." Louis breathed in again, welcoming the pleasant scent once more.

"Would that be all? I could also hand you a bag of the bakery's air, honestly."

The boy joked and Louis snorted, half considering it. The boy handed Louis a bag of what he ordered and nodded for the next women in line, completely ignoring him. He felt like a ghost, as if someone would look right at his face yet manage to see through him. Perhaps that's what everyone was, ghosts in bodies, giving an illusion to be important, having an excuse to be purposeful.

* * *

It went on for a week, a straight five days (considering his job at the pub hadn't intended for him to work on the weekend). Harry was there every time Louis came, and Louis swore it was the smell of the bakery that drew him there but he sometimes found himself looking for green eyes and ruffled hair, on the streets that he walked across, at the pub, and sometimes in the mirror. He closes his eyes, and he imagines the curve of the boy's pink lips and the pale of his cheeks. He had noticed all of this, yet, he didn't even know the boy's name.


	2. Chapter 2

UV rays warmed Louis' porcelain skin as he stepped into the bakery this time. He had come a bit early than intentional, but certainly not because he'd loved the way the boy working at the front counter had puffy clouds of chocolate for hair that fell into his eyes ever so often, and to Louis it seemed more attractive than it was supposed to be. No, it could not have possibly been the crooked smirk that the boy would wear after Louis made a smart remark, or the way his brows furrowed when he was listening hard, revealing the glint of his emerald eyes. It couldn't have been those things that had dragged Louis to the small building that smelled of freshness, and toasted goods. Or it could have been the fluffiness of the bread that nearly melted in his mouth with every bite.

Louis wasn't quite sure. Not yet. He gnawed at his bottom lip for some time thinking, thinking about what sensible statement, what sassy line he could use to— 

"Louis?" The quiet voice ring throughout the whole building, considering how empty it had been at dawn.

Louis knew he'd been early, but not bird chirping kind of early. Louis searched his mind, desperate for something- anything useful to make sure of a smile on the boy's face.

"So um. What's your name?" Louis winced inwardly, and hissed silently at his awkwardness and lack of ability to sound sophisticated.

It worked, surprisingly, as the boy suddenly smiled, a sincere smile that showed some teeth and revealed dimples. Louis nearly fainted because _dimplesdimplesdimplesdimples_.

"Harry."

Louis liked it. Cliché. Simple.

"Louis," Louis reached over the counter to shake Harry's hand, "Haven't I seen you from somewhere?"

Harry let out a chuckle and locked his gaze with Louis'.

"It would be highly possible."

Louis nodded several times and regretted pulling his hand away so quickly, but tried to act as casual as a guy can get in front of the curly haired bloke.

"So. How've you held up? Being held hostage inside this stuffy place for so long, yeah?"

Harry shuddered noticeably and looked at the wall behind Louis. "Okay, yeah. Holding up fine. But, Louis, might I ask why you've not ordered a thing yet?" Louis' heart pounded and he ears the rush of blood flowing in his ears while he thought up an excuse.

"Well, even people who work in bakeries need to be asked how they're feeling sometimes, or maybe not– I don't know, maybe they're superhuman and don't have feelings, so they must find it quite difficult to answer–"

"Do you ramble like this often?" The corners of Harry's lips turned upwards and Louis felt as if his heart could burst. Possibly with awe, or possibly with embarrassment.

"Kind of– I mean, when I'm nervous, as of now, I tend to ramble on but it really depends on the situation, say I was at a job interview–"

"You're a mess, lad. You should probably order something before any costumers make their way in, then make your way out. Don't want to be hoarding you up in my shop too long, probably have a girl missing you at home, yeah?"

Louis cleared his throat. "Actually a um, a guy."

Harry froze, shallow breaths that once hung in the air halted and his eyes were glued to one part of the wall.

"My mate. Best mate, actually. Nice lad."

Harry tried to suppress a deep exhale of relief but failed miserably.

"Oh, oh no you thought, did you think I was..." Louis trailed off, knowing Harry was fully aware of what Louis was intending. Harry scratched the back of his neck sheepishly.

"Yeah..."

Louis sighed, and searched the menu above Harry's head, deciding on what he felt more for. "Just a medium coffee, please." Harry nodded and headed into the back room, only reappearing minutes later with an average sized paper cup and a receipt.

He handed Louis both, slightly touching him in the process, causing Louis to almost gasp at the sudden contact.

Louis mumbled a few goodbye words to Harry and stumbled out of the shop, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket despite the beating weather and hot sun.

It was simply too early to stroll over to the pub, so Louis found himself at the doorstep of Zayn's flat, knocking trice before letting himself in.

The place was silent all round, occasional drips of the kitchen sink splashing hard upon the ceramic. Louis barged his way into the bedroom.

"Zayn, get your ass up–" Louis' gaze searched the covers furiously, with no luck. He reached under pillows and sheets and was greeted but nothing but an artificial warmth of the vent that blew more dust than air.

"Zayn?" Louis shouldn't be worried, really. Zayn had always been here, sheets tangled between limbs and pieces of words murmured throughout his somewhat peaceful doze. It was dawn for the love of God, where could have Zayn gone off to at this time?

Louis had pulled his cell from his pocket, searching through his contacts for Zayn's name when something caught his eye.

A digital clock. The number spread across the monotone screen hit Louis with such force that he grabbed at his chest, gasping for breath. His eyes made a once over, just in case. But it was still there.

_4 W_

Zayn wasn't dying in four weeks. It was simply impossible, Zayn would have told him. It was probably just another timer than Zayn had stolen, or whatever.

(Yeah, because there is a food that exists in which needs to be cooked for 4 weeks. That's why it says 4 W.)

Louis winced at his thoughts, and felt a certain tingling behind his eyes and a burning sensation as tears fell heavily past his nose. Something happened in order to cause this.

Louis figures that something could also be done in order to stop it.

* * *

Louis had friends back in junior high, he remembers. They never spoke about how they felt, possibly from inexperience, or lack of knowing how to express themselves and their emotions. Louis was only an expert at that with Zayn.

The only person he wanted to talk to about Zayn's near death.

But Zayn never answered, not his phone, his messages. He could have dropped off the surface of the earth and Louis couldn't have seen the difference.

Zayn was already gone in Louis' mind.

* * *

Louis' feet dragged him to the familiar doughy place that Louis seemingly had a fond spot for. He watched the curly haired bloke serve the surrounding costumers in a pace Louis never imagined himself doing. Louis didn't have work, so he stayed. For quite some time, too.

"Louis, it's closing time. I think you should head on." Harry nodded towards the door and he stripped of his stained apron, curls bouncing.

"Can I ask you a question?" The words were out of Louis' mouth before he could stop them.

"You already did, mate." Harry laughed at his own joke and slapped his knee, turning serious after a while. He cleared his throat, "Yeah. Yeah, um– okay."

Louis fidgeted with his fingers and dared to look into the green eyes that stared at him.

"I need help."

Harry smiled and tilted his head slightly.

"That doesn't much like a question to me. More a statement, yeah?"

Louis inwardly kicked himself at his stupidity.

"Well, I just. Let me rephrase that. Can I make a statement?"

Harry laughed again and threw his head back, nodding. "Of course, yeah."

"Okay. I need help."

Harry's laughing almost put Louis into a better mood. Almost. "With what?"

"My best friend is dying."

Harry's smile faltered and completely disappeared, his gaze not quite reaching Louis'. "I don't know how to help you, Louis. I'm sorry." Louis sighed.

"But like– there's a way. I know there's a way. What if a bunch of people's clocks went to 10 minutes after boarding a plane? You could do something, like tell the pilot to do whatever he planned on doing differently so nobody would die. What if–"

"You can't do that, Louis. It just doesn't work like that."

"Yes it does! It works exactly like that and I'm going to do it. I'm saving Zayn."Louis knew that Harry had not a clue of who Zayn was but he said it anyway.

"What's his time?" Harry's voice was quieter, almost concerned.

"Three weeks. Now if you don't mind, I don't have much time to find him and take care of this." Louis turned on his heels, held his chin high, but wasn't able to take one step before Harry spoke.

"Wait." Louis turned back to Harry expectingly. He counted four heartbeats of silence. Five.

. "I'm coming with you."


	3. Chapter 3

Harry threw his coat on before following Louis out the door, and came he did. 

A silence grew between the boys as they made their way through crowded streets and corner shops. Louis managed to sneak glances at Harry's peripheral, in which his face reflected a shine from the stars above, yet continued on to be emotion twisted.   
Louis wondered about him. Probably more than he should, but the gleam of sorrow that overtook emerald eyes made Louis even more curious. 

"Hey– um. You alright?"

Harry's eyes hardened as he halted, looking down upon Louis and radiating an immense amount of intimidation. He opened his mouth, starting a sound which could have been the beginning of a word, but closed it tight after. Harry then began walking again, except more behind Louis than beside.

Louis missed the presence.

* * *

"So where are we headed?"

Louis bowed his head and hugged his self, becoming self conscious due to the gaze he knew he was under. 

"Um," Louis cleared his throat, "The police station, they will be able to track Zayn down, and–"

"Track him down?"

"I kind of left out the part about him being missing but we'll find him I–"

"He's missing? God Lou, that seems much unimportant in this situation. Don't you have to know where he is in order to save him? That must be in the How To Save A Life handbook, honestly. Step one: Find the person. Step two: Save them."

"For God's same Harry, shut the fuck up and let me explain!"

But Harry hasn't closed his mouth yet, not to take a breath. 

"I think you've got to go in order, Lou, and you have forgotten number one–"

"Stop! Let me explain,"

"No, look. What if I had cake batter, and spread the icing on without baking the cake first? Shit wouldn't work, correct? You're doing it wrong, Louis. You'd best be glad I'm here at your side this very moment. How lucky you must be, yeah?"

It took Louis a while to comprehend the words that jumbled in him mind, all of them in the same sarcastic and demanding voice that never failed to pull Louis under and then lift him high up, above the clouds.  
Louis shook his head of the thoughts and pulled a wrinkly face.

"Cake?"

Harry almost doubled over with booming laughter that drew the attention of a nearby crowd. 

"So," Harry tried, before breaking into a louder fit.   
"So I'm lecturing you about this whole situation and you–"  
Harry panted, trying to suppress his laughter.  
"All you care about is the metaphor I've used?" Harry's dimples were as deep as Louis' fondness over Harry at the moment, and he couldn't help but laugh at the sight as well. 

"Bakers, huh? S' a baker thing? Or do you just love cake?" 

Harry's wide smile had lessened, and instead formed a cheeky smirk.

"Dunno, mate. In my blood, perhaps. Or, I don't know. I probably just love cake. Who doesn't love cake?" Harry's voice raised playfully on the last sentence, and his smirk deepened. 

Harry continued walking, somehow ending up in front of Louis during their interesting fit of laughter and sarcasm.   
Louis eyes widened when Harry didn't stop, though. He walked and walked and walked, even off of the end of the sidewalk, into the street of busy cars and places to be. 

"Harry!"

Harry stopped dead in the middle of the street, realizing how far he'd really gone and looking longingly at Louis. 

"Harry, wait–"

The words dripped from Louis' mouth before he noticed the honking of what sounded similar to those of a donkey's wailing. (Louis knew his comparisons were off and wacky but it seemed accurate.) Headlights dashes and beamed onto none than the warm face of Harry, Harry whom he had no clue of what might his surname ever be, not his favorite color or band, what season he likes the most and why. He hasn't even been able to get the simple things out of Harry yet, despite how much he intended to. 

Harry's face screwed up and his eyes widened, something of a sorrowful deer or a dying rabbit. Fear must have consumed him and eaten him up, as it seemed when the color flushed right out of his cheeks, then the rest of his face. He stood shocked, waiting, even realizing what would/could/will happen at that point, but Louis had other plans.

He sprinted forwards, surging into the street and practically tackling the lengthy boy that trembled furiously, and felt them roll onto the other side of the street together. 

Once everything had stopped spinning and the adrenaline rush was complete and done with, Louis noticed that him and Harry had rolled into grass. Harry hardly moved and shallow breaths escaped his mouth, which shook involuntarily.

"Hey," Louis reached down to stroke the side of Harry's face while slightly leaning over him. 

"It's alright. You're here. You're fine. It will be fine." Louis used his free hand to gently comb his fingers through the boys hair, exhaling in relief when Harry's breathing paced almost normally and his face had some color. 

"Louis."

Harry croaked, leaning into the warm hands that engulfed him so eagerly and gingerly. 

"I'm here," Louis almost regretted saying the last part, "Always."


	4. Chapter 4

Harry threw his coat on before following Louis out the door, and came he did. 

A silence grew between the boys as they made their way through crowded streets and corner shops. Louis managed to sneak glances at Harry's peripheral, in which his face reflected a shine from the stars above, yet continued on to be emotion twisted.   
Louis wondered about him. Probably more than he should, but the gleam of sorrow that overtook emerald eyes made Louis even more curious. 

"Hey– um. You alright?"

Harry's eyes hardened as he halted, looking down upon Louis and radiating an immense amount of intimidation. He opened his mouth, starting a sound which could have been the beginning of a word, but closed it tight after. Harry then began walking again, except more behind Louis than beside.

Louis missed the presence.

* * *

"So where are we headed?"

Louis bowed his head and hugged his self, becoming self conscious due to the gaze he knew he was under. 

"Um," Louis cleared his throat, "The police station, they will be able to track Zayn down, and–"

"Track him down?"

"I kind of left out the part about him being missing but we'll find him I–"

"He's missing? God Lou, that seems much unimportant in this situation. Don't you have to know where he is in order to save him? That must be in the How To Save A Life handbook, honestly. Step one: Find the person. Step two: Save them."

"For God's same Harry, shut the fuck up and let me explain!"

But Harry hasn't closed his mouth yet, not to take a breath. 

"I think you've got to go in order, Lou, and you have forgotten number one–"

"Stop! Let me explain,"

"No, look. What if I had cake batter, and spread the icing on without baking the cake first? Shit wouldn't work, correct? You're doing it wrong, Louis. You'd best be glad I'm here at your side this very moment. How lucky you must be, yeah?"

It Louis a while to comprehend the words that jumbled in him mind, all of them in the same sarcastic and demanding voice that never failed to pull Louis under and then lift him high up, above the clouds.  
Louis shook his head of the thoughts and pulled a wrinkly face.

"Cake?"

Harry almost doubled over with booming laughter that drew the attention of a nearby crowd. 

"So," Harry tried, before breaking into a louder fit.   
"So I'm lecturing you about this whole situation and you–"  
Harry panted, trying to suppress his laughter.  
"All you care about is the metaphor I've used?" Harry's dimples were as deep as Louis' fondness over Harry at the moment, and he couldn't help but laugh at the sight as well. 

"Bakers, huh? S' a baker thing? Or do you just love cake?" 

Harry's wide smile had lessened, and instead formed a cheeky smirk.

"Dunno, mate. In my blood, perhaps. Or, I don't know. I probably just love cake. Who doesn't love cake?" Harry's voice raised playfully on the last sentence, and his smirk deepened. 

Harry continued walking, somehow ending up in front of Louis during their interesting fit of laughter and sarcasm.   
Louis eyes widened when Harry didn't stop, though. He walked and walked and walked, even off of the end of the sidewalk, into the street of busy cars and places to be. 

"Harry!"

Harry stopped dead in the middle of the street, realizing how far he'd really gone and looking longingly at Louis. 

"Harry, just–"

The words dripped from Louis' mouth before he noticed the honking of what sounded similar to those of a donkey's wailing. (Louis knew his comparisons were off and wacky but it seemed accurate.) Headlights dashes and beamed onto none than the warm face of Harry, Harry whom he had no clue of what might his surname ever be, not his favorite color or band, what season he likes the most and why. He hasn't even been able to get the simple things out of Harry yet, despite how much he intended to. 

Harry's face screwed up and his eyes widened, something of a sorrowful deer or a dying rabbit. Fear must have consumed him and eaten him up, as it seemed when the color flushed right out of his cheeks, then the rest of his face. He stood shocked, waiting, even realizing what would/could/will happen at that point, but Louis had other plans.

He sprinted forwards, surging into the street and practically tackling the lengthy boy that trembled furiously, and felt them roll onto the other side of the street together. 

Once everything had stopped spinning and the adrenaline rush was complete and done with, Louis noticed that him and Harry had rolled into grass. Harry hardly moved and shallow breaths escaped his mouth, which shook involuntarily.

"Hey," Louis reached down to stroke the side of Harry's face while slightly leaning over him. 

"It's alright. You're here. You're fine. It will be fine." Louis used his free hand to gently comb his fingers through the boys hair, exhaling in relief when Harry's breathing paced almost normally and his face had some color. 

"Louis."

Harry croaked, leaning into the warm hands that engulfed him so eagerly and gingerly. 

"I'm here," Louis almost regretted saying the last part, "Always."


	5. Chapter 5

Harry recovered from his shock after bit, even laughed more than once. Albeit, Louis could never exactly identify the shimmer of a different emotion that never left his eyes.

Louis decided that it had been safer to head to his flat for the night, as wondering the busy streets, while the sky was a dark blue and as the moon perked behind darkening clouds, might be more frightening than he'd imagined. 

The same as well for Harry, he had assumed. 

"Why are we turning around?" Harry's words held a monotonous tone, as if he couldn't care less where they were going, but felt that it was necessary to ask. 

"I thought that– I mean, I don't know if you're in a very stable position at the moment so I think we should go to my place for a while–"

"You're place?" Harry smirked. "What, is this a date now?" 

Louis tried to suppress a smile by frowning deeply, holding back any and all thoughts about how much Louis really wouldn't mind going on a date with Harry. 

"What– No! I just thought you'd want to rest or something, like, I'm pretty sure you almost died or whatnot? Or is that not a big deal to you?"

Harry's eyes veered off into some other non-existent dimension and widened painfully, filled with hurt and a sense of fear. 

Louis stopped in his tracks and placed a hand on the other boy's shoulder, squeezing it with reassurance. 

"Harry?"

And immediately, Harry tuned back into the real world, taking a glance at Louis before humming in response. 

"Alright?"

Harry sniffed and started off again, a hard look in his eyes.

"Yeah," He said as Louis caught up to his pace. 

"'M fine."

Louis nodded, despite his knowing that something was not alright, and Harry was in fact not fine. 

* * *

"Nice place." Harry nodded to himself as he followed Louis through the open space of his flat. "Mind if I stop here often?" 

Louis only smiled and shook his head, "Come by as often as you wish, lad."

Louis plopped onto a stained couch in front table, then a blank tv, and patted the space next to him for Harry. 

Harry obeyed and sat, squirming ever so often at the awkwardness between the two boys. 

"So," He started. "Are you going to turn the tv on?"

"No."

"Why not?"

Louis sighed.

 

"I want to know more about you."

 

It seemed romantic and girly and weird, Louis regretted the words as soon as they flew out.

Harry chuckled and turned his torso around go face Louis.

"What do you want to know?" He grinned teasingly, gazing down into Louis' eyes and leaning closer to him. 

"Well, first of all, whether you're a mass murder or not. Be nice to know, I'd guess." Louis grinned in return to Harry. 

Harry deadpanned. "I'm not." But a smile snuck back into the corners of his mouth when he said, "But I'm not quite sure about you yet."

Louis put on a menacing grin and carefully picked the pair of scissors from the table in front of them, and pointed them towards Harry. 

"Caught me. Sorry I've only just now mentioned it, but yeah. I do enjoy murdering people for a living. You would be dead by now if things had been different, but I don't know, you're cool."   
Louis laid the scissors down again. 

"You're so fucking weird, Louis."  
Harry paused before speaking again. 

"I like it."

* * * 

"Favorite color?"

"Orange."

"Favorite animal?"

"Erm– cat?"

"Favorite cartoon character?"

"Louis, honestly. Is this nessesary?"

"Answer the question, Harry."

"Fine– um, Danny Phantom."

Louis threw his head back with laughter, letting his shoulders shake and stomach clench before an idea came through to him. 

"Who's your favorite person?"

Harry hesitated, and Louis expected some widely spread movie actor or singer. He most definitely did not expect, "You" to escape Harry's mouth but despite that, it did. 

Louis almost doubled over with confusion before realization hit him square in the nose and he laughed.

"No really, like, a real person."

"What? You don't look like a fucking chair to me! You. You're my favorite person. 'S that okay?"

Louis shook his head and felt as if he could vomit, vomit all of his worries and sorrows out and let new joy and happiness in because  
//he was Harry Styles' fucking favorite person.//

"'Course. Just wasn't expecting that. I'm not a very interesting person, or whatever. Honestly, What have I done to make you so obsessed with me?" 

"I don't really know, to be honest." Harry's gaze didn't quite reach Louis', and he almost looked ashamed. 

"It's okay, I mean, I'm a bit obsessed with myself as well, nothing to fret about young lad. All normal."   
Louis squeezed Harry's shoulder. 

"Subject change. Er– what's your time? Not planning on dying on me tomorrow, yeah?" Louis tried to lighten the mood a bit.

Harry must have took it the opposite way, because he jerked into a standing position, hands trembling all and all, while he backed towards the doorway. 

"Harry? Wait, please tell me you're not going to die tomorrow? You're not right? First Zayn and now–"

"I'm not."

Louis felt like he could breathe again.

"Or the next day?"

"Nope. Look Lou, I'll uh– see you tomorrow, alright? I've got an extra early shift in the morning so I should probably head out now."

He was gone and Louis looked aimlessly around the room, figuring nothing would be worth his time doing unless Harry was there. 

He spotted a shiny something on the floor below the couch.

A watch.

Harry's watch?

Louis hesitantly picked it up and turned it over, gasping as he eyed the digital numbers.

 

'3 D'


	6. Chapter 6

Louis thought about it. The errors and mishaps of the government, uncommon yet likely mistakes that are bound to occur at most once in a lifetime. 

What was time, exactly? 

Louis knew. 

Countenances that lit with a flame, and smeared with a smile. A moment of freedom and the offers of air-weight wings. Like cotton candy, a sweet sensation that sticks as glue, it stays forever and you remember the taste, the feel of it against your lips, the smell as you leaned down for your first bite. 

Time was life, as life is time. 

But three days was not enough.

* * *

Louis was the first inside of the bakery at morning, as expected by him and Harry both. 

Louis took a seat near the wall, grimacing at the spotless table that lied in front of him.   
"You weren't going to tell me, were you."

Louis knew. He didn't have to look at Harry to sense the boy's confused expression.

"What are you on about, Lou?"   
Harry glanced over the counter before stepping through the thin gate that separated the area behind it for the workers use only, walking over to the table Louis was seated at, and planting himself beside him.

"I can't lose you. Not again, Harry. I'm not letting this happen to me again."  
Louis started again before Harry could get a word out.  
"You're the only thing I have. How else am I going to find Zayn? How else will I save him?"

Harry's eyes sharpened, and his softened expression gone.   
"Wait, you're worried about Zayn dying in what, two weeks? When I'm over here counting my death by the day. Explains just about how much you care about me."

Louis shook his head furiously. "No, It's not like that–"

"Louis, stop."

"You don't understand, Harry–"

"I do. I understand clearly enough that Zayn is by far more important to you than I'll ever be. I just hope you'll understand how to cope by yourself trying to find him, because I'm done trying to help you."

Harry spat the words as venom before he stood up, pulling Louis with him and dragging him towards the door. "Leave."

"Harry, stop, I just–"  
Louis tried to compose himself.

"I– I need to tell you something. Like, I know it won't be mutual but just–"

"Spit it out. I only have three days, remember? Don't plan on spending them listening to you ramble."

Louis swore he saw the corners of Harry's lips curl up.

"I think I–"  
Louis stopped again, eyeing over Harry as the other boy leaned a bit to the right, laying both hands on his hips.

There couldn't have been a more perfect moment, Louis thought, because as soon his lips landed on Harry's there was a certain freedom that Louis couldn't put a finger on, albeit he had enjoyed every ounce it.

It was his freedom. His moment.

His time.

And time, Louis figured, was the most important thing in his life.

* * *

Two days. Zayn hadn't shown up and Harry was still losing a part of himself by the passing hour.

They were on the couch at Louis' flat, sat closely to each other and holding tight because there would be nothing else to hold onto in a numbered time. 

They kissed a few times, slow soft kisses, and then needing and rushed ones. It was messy and clumsy yet Louis felt so comfortable. He'd almost cry of joy because Harry has finally been his.   
But, oh. 

For only the next two days. 

Louis thought, he thought until he couldn't, he searched his brain for an answer, a solution to the pain of what was about to occur. 

Could he help Harry? Possibly. 

Well, it wasn't impossible.

That's all Louis needed.

 

"I'm sorry."  
Harry said it unexpectedly, considering they had just came down from the rush of their make out session.

"For what? Dying? Yeah, as if you had the choice in the first place." Louis pecked his cheek and squeezed his hand harder.

"No, not that Lou. I shouldn't have went off on you like that yesterday. Really, don't even worry about me, you need to find Zayn and you need to help him."  
Harry hesitated before starting again. 

"Time is running out."

Louis sprang up at the words and looked Harry hard in the eye.  
"Listen to me." 

Harry eyes weren't quite reaching Louis' but Louis didn't care.

"Listen to me, Harry. I'm not leaving you. You're going to survive because you're staying here for the next two days. If you don't go outside, how could you possibly die?"

"Lou, the bakery."

"I couldn't give a rat's ass about the bakery if it means saving you."

Louis in fact did spot the slight raise of the corners of Harry's lips. 

* * *

One day.  
It happened when Louis was in the shower. 

There was a knock at the front door, or more of a pounding, if you will. 

"Harry! Would you mind getting that?"

His shout echoed off the shower walls as he continued scrubbing tan skin.

Louis heard footsteps then the front door opening, more footsteps, voices. 

"Looking.....are you............Jesus."

Running?   
Louis heard Harry's clumsy paces and soon the door to the bathroom had been opened and Harry's voice rang through the hollow room.

"It's Zayn."

Louis dropped the bar of soap he'd been holding and almost slipped trying to rush out of the steamy water. 

"Zayn!?"

Louis surprisingly didn't even bother to grab a towel, so Harry took one to wrap around Louis' waist before he could rush out of the bathroom.

"Zayn?!" Louis cried again and stepped into the living space, gasping at the figure in from of him. He jumped into it's arms despite the wet and stickiness of his skin.

"Lou," Zayn managed to get out between the arms squeezing around his neck.

"We need to talk."


	7. Chapter 7

Zayn didn't know. He did, actually, not how though. He said that his health was average and his hormones were toned down by bits so yeah, he was okay. Somehow he was dying but he was okay.

Louis wasn't. He wondered, why the two most important people in his life? Why not him? Why not some deserving criminal for that matter? 

The three of them were seated carefully at the dining table in Louis' kitchen, silverware clanking on the hard plate material. It was their meal, but not Harry's last meal, nope. 

Silence combed through the air heavily and sliced through any means of conversation until Zayn said, "Stop." 

He was given strange looks, yet continued. "Stop pretending like you don't care, Lou. The lad's got hours left yet you've barely even attempted a decent converse with him, must make 'em feel nice, yeah? What a great friend you are." The sarcasm rolled off of his tongue in waves and they hit Louis at a constant until he was drowning.   
"I–"

"Louis, I said stop. I dunno, discuss the beauty of nature, the nice weather. Hell, talk about porno vids. Try to have a normal conversation like normal human fucking beings."   
And Zayn was in a different room.

Louis cleared his throat.   
"You're not dying, by the way."  
Harry suddenly found a keen disinterest in the frozen meat dish in front of him and looked Louis is the eyes.

"I am." 

It was more like a croak, soft and low but it cracked on the end and made Louis wince.

"Haz, no you're not I told you my plan–"

"Unfortunate, that. Y'know? That someone like you is handing so much to some loser they met in a bakery. I don't deserve this, Lou, I don't deserve you and I sure as hell don't deserve this fortunate life that so gracefully led me to you. You should," A deep breath, cloudy eyes. "You should just let me go."

It took Louis a while but he said something, something of an objection or simply a "No."

His eyes reached Harry's. "No."  
"What the fuck are you talking about? Yeah, you are a loser and I did meet you in a bakery but, that's not the point. You have too much to live for, Haz. Too much, but you deserve all of it and a bit more. I'm not letting you go until after the timer reaches zero and nothing happens. Because nothing is going to happen, alright?" 

Harry pulls a thin chain out of his pocket, ended with a rounded glass circle, and pressed with digital numbers. 

"What is that?" Louis watched from the opposite of the table.

"Timer. Made it myself." Harry visibly cringed at the numbers.

"What? Let me see,"

But Louis was interrupted with a hand pulling him from his chair and dragging him onto the nearby couch. Louis was straddling Harry and his lips were moving against Harry's without first given permission. Rude. 

It wasn't okay. Harry's skin was burning against Louis' and his long fingers scanned the base of Louis' neck and it wasn't okay.

Louis never broke the law before, but at this point he's probably broken more than half of them because damn this boy is illegal.

Louis focused on sucking Harry's bottom lip and even managed a low moan from him, and he felt the pit of his stomach go red hot and numb. 

It wasn't his decision, it was simply against his will when Louis connected his lower part with Harry's, grinding down unskillfully which resulted in Harry bulking his hips up.

Harry smelled like lemon but tasted of dough which seemed ironic because he did work in a bakery after all, Louis didn't have time to understand all of it because Harry was removing Louis' jeans and he wanted to run away. Run from it all, the lush of Harry's lips and the blush of his cheeks because it was too overwhelming and Louis felt like he was going to be set off like a grenade.

He couldn't look in his eyes, couldn't face the reality of what would be destined to happen sooner or later. 

And he didn't look in his eyes as he was being engulfed by the lemon and dough.

* * * 

It was okay.

It was at some unspoken time of the late night, or early morning.

It was okay.

Louis, laying on his bed, squinting through the thick darkness that surrounded him, suffocated him and Louis felt like he couldn't breath, like something was not in place. It was not an unfamiliar feeling but it was enough to get him going.

"Harry?"

Louis sprawled all possible limbs in all possible spaces of his bed, having no luck in finding the warm body that he longed for. 

"Harry," He whispered again.

Silence. 

Maybe be was sleeping.

But then again, sleeping requires breathing and iconically Louis heard no breathing and that's when he jumped from his bed, fumbling around his room for long enough before he finally reached the light switch. 

Harry wasn't there. Not when the light was off and when the light was on it only confirmed it. 

Louis opened his door and stepped into the living area.

"Harry?"

Louis heard the clicking of his pulse and the blood rushing in his ears. He barged into the next room.

"Where's Harry?! Zayn, where's Harry?"

Zayn was still in oblivion though, as long snores and disrupt breaths escaped through his nose.

Louis grabbed the nearest pillow and whacked Zayn atop the head.  
"Get the fuck up! Harry's gone missing, Zayn, He's gone I-"

"Hell was that for?"  
Zayn rubbed the sleep from his eyes and blinked in confusion. 

"Harry's not here! Zayn, Listen to me!"

But Zayn already had his head back onto his pillow, mumbling something about, "Probably in the bathroom."

And then he shot right back up, alarm wide in his face and a shot of horror in his eyes.

"He's gone?"

"Yeah, why would he leave?! Do you think he's–"

"Lou, no. No there's a– remember that warning? The um, the– the flood warning! Fuck, Lou, it's flooding and Harry's no where to be seen."

Louis shook his head. He hasn't watched the news in weeks. Not updated by the slightest.

"His timer." Louis said more to himself than anyone. 

Louis fled the room and went to the table, hand locking around a glass pendant and he rushed back to Zayn, holding his hands out.

Louis and Zayn's expressions turned pale as they read the screened number:

9M

Louis had waited long enough, though, and he made a final decision that it was, in fact, not going to be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know if buttered scones exist just bare with me please. I hope someone will actually read this because I want to continue it but what's the point with no audience? Leave comments if you have any ideas that you think I should use in the next chapters x.


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